


A Lesson in ... Trust

by littlelostcat



Series: A Lesson in ... [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friendship leading to more, M/M, Post Season 2, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:05:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelostcat/pseuds/littlelostcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is temporarily blinded in a fight with hunters and goes homes with Derek, for protection, until his eyesight comes back.  The first few steps towards friendship -- and trust -- happen along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson in ... Trust

“Scott! Derek!” Stiles’s shout was cut short when the flash bomb erupted with a _bang_ and lavender colored powder mixed with smoke in the air; he cried out as his body slammed into one of the nearby walls. Distantly he heard Derek growl, then darkness and silence.

Derek sunk his claws into the warehouse floor and launched himself to where the hunter was walking towards Stiles’s prone body. His mind blanked, the wolf raged, when the man grabbed Stiles by the neck and pulled him up. Somewhere behind him he heard Scott and Isaac growl, but he ignored them. His focus was on Stiles. And the hunter. When Stiles groaned weakly, Derek felt a touch of relief but he kept moving towards his prey, kept his eyes trained on the hunter. 

He glanced over and saw Isaac fighting two hunters, Scott was on the other side pulling the clips from the fallen guns and knocking another hunter unconscious with the butt of one of the guns. Around them the bodies of the rest of the party lay incapacitated on the ground. Derek growled as Scott landed beside him, breathing heavy and dropping a clip at his feet, then Isaac stepped to his left. Together, they stalked toward the lone man holding Stiles.

“Stop!” the hunter stammered and his grip tightened, he looked from Derek to Scott then back. Stiles groaned, lifting his arm slightly behind him to the wrist of the man. His heart beat radically and his eyes were tightly closed. Blood streaked from a wound at his temple. 

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Scott growled, his voice rough with the wolf change and the fight.

“Scott?” Stiles choked. “I can’t--”

“It’s fine, Stiles. You’re fine,” Derek said, surprisingly calm, as he transformed back. He took a step closer, eyed the hunter and Stiles, and smiled. “You’re outnumbered and your men are unconscious. Let him go.”

“Or?” the hunter pulled Stiles so that the younger man was flush against him and grinned when he gasped. He tightened his grip and held Stiles like a shield facing towards them. “Or I take him with me.”

“Or we’ll take him from you.” Derek countered. Outside a wolf howled and inside Isaac growled. He looked from Derek to the man, then to Stiles and took a step forward. “And, you don’t want that.”

Stile gasped again and bit his lip when he was pull back another step, the hunter’s fingers digging harshly into his neck. He knew there was a door to the left, if he was where he thought they were, the hunter could drop him and be out of the warehouse in less then fifteen feet. God, please let him drop him. 

“He’s worthless anyway. Sympathizers are worse then the monsters.” The hunter threw Stiles to the ground and ran; his footsteps echoing as the wolves moved. He fell hard, hands sliding over the gravel and broken glass, and he felt the bruise on his side throb while a new one was forming on his shoulder. He heard Isaac snap his teeth and run after the man; Stiles had to bite his lip again to stop himself from crying out when the pain exploded at his shoulder, his palms, his ribs. His lungs refused to work, he couldn’t breathe. All he could hear was the rush of blood over chaos.

“Stiles?” Scott ran and wrapped an arm around his shoulder to pull him up, then let go when Stiles flinched.

“I can’t,” Stiles swallowed and lowered his head back to the ground, “I can’t see.”

Scott tightened his hold and a second later Stiles felt a shift in the air around him; Derek’s hand was at the base of his neck, then Derek’s hands pulled him up and cupped his face. Whiteness engulfed his vision and Stiles let his head move limply with Derek’s hold.

“When?” Derek asked.

Stiles released a shuddered breath and licked his lips, even as he felt panic rise he felt Derek’s thumb slide over the pulse point at his neck once, twice, then again, “The explosion. Right after the explosion. But,” he let out a choked laugh and squeezed his eyes shut. Tested his sightlessness again. “We know it works now.”

“You were supposed to stay outside,” Scott said angrily, accusation mixing with worry. “Your dad--”

“Won’t know,” Derek cut in. “It’s temporary, Stiles. It should wear off--”

“I know. _I know_.” His hands shook as he lifted them to loop around Derek’s wrists then up to run over his own face. He felt dried blood by his eye from the hunter, a bruise forming at his jaw from the fall. “But I can’t see. I’m ... _I can’t_.”

“He can stay with me,” Scott offered, and Stiles heard his friend’s foot shift on the debris around them. “We can say that we have a proj--”

“No,” Derek’s voice was sharp, but his hands light as they moved over Stiles’s neck. “He’ll stay with me.”

“But--”

“The Alpha pack is still in town, Scott. Erica and Boyd are still gone. The Argents are still--”

“They _aren’t_ , Derek, Alison said--”

“No,” Stiles pushed back and his foot caught on something beside him. “No, Scott. I can’t...god. I can’t ... with the hunters.” He felt new tears well in his eyes and hoped that tears were a good sign. Right? Washing out the toxins? That was why he was crying, _washing the toxins_. He sniffed and closed his eyes, then dropped his hands back to Derek’s wrists. “Besides, Derek owes me.”

“What?” Scott screeched.

“I, what?” Derek asked.

Stiles waved a hand and tried to stand. “From the carnival,” he moved his hand wide and smacked Scott in the face, “Oh. Sorry. But, yeah, I totally saved you at the carnival last month.”

“I had it covered,” Derek replied drily as he helped steady Stiles, neither mentioned when he kept one hand loosely around Stiles’s waist. But Stiles may have leaned into the support.

“Whatever. It’s fine, Scott,” but his voice cracked and his heart skipped over the lie, “I’ll call my Dad and say I’m staying at yours. A Call...Call of Duty championship or something.”

“You’re sure?” Stiles imagined the hurt and confused look on his friend’s face, and looked down and nodded. Even blind, he couldn't face the lost puppy voice of Scott McCall.

“Derek’s right. Until my eyesight comes back I’m a distraction at best. A liability at worst. With the Alphas, the hunters.” He stopped there but couldn’t hold the shudder when Gerard’s face filled his mind. _Argents_. “You’d be an even easier target.”

“Okay. But if you need anything...”

“He’ll call,” Derek answered and led them out; Stiles couldn’t hear Scott and wondered if they’d left him standing alone or if he’d left when they'd turned around. He heard a shuffle in front of them and instinctively took a step back. “Isaac,” Derek whispered, his hand squeezing slightly where it lay at Stiles’s waist. He took a breath and nodded.

“Taken care of,” Isaac said.

“And by ‘taken care of’, you mean?”

“The hunter was taken care of,” Derek repeated. “Stay low,” he said to Isaac. “I’ll call you, but stay low for the next few days.” Then Stiles heard Isaac bound away. 

“What does ‘taken care of’ even mean? Did Isaac _kill_ him? Is that what you’re doing now? And did he wolf out to run away? Is that the new ‘peace out’ for werewolves?” Stiles wondered aloud with a forced smile, he lifted his head as though to sniff the air. It _had_ smelled different. So maybe Isaac _had_ changed. Were his senses heightened now? 

When he asked, Derek snorted and pulled him back from walking into the Camaro. “No.” 

He sat still while Derek clipped his seatbelt and silently wondered which question Derek had actually answered, then waited until he heard the driver’s door open and close.

“So. Thanks for this.” He waved a hand between them, “I mean, we don’t usually do the thank you and you’re welcomes. But thank you. I mean, I think it’s because usually we separate or go our own ways before the adrenaline crash. The not saying thank you. But. I’m still revved. Like. Major adrenaline like woah. And you’re not talking. Why aren’t you talking? Oh god, are you mad? Are you driving angry with a blind man?”

“Yes,” Derek answered and Stiles heard the leather cracked under Derek’s fingers.

“Sorry?” Stiles whispered.

“You knew the powder wouldn’t hurt us. But it hurts humans. And you recklessly ran in--”

“But--”

“You’re lucky the bomb only blinded you, Stiles!”

“But he missed the trap. He didn’t go through the door like he was supposed to. And he was aiming his gun at,” he swallowed and turned towards the window, “he was aiming at Scott.” When Derek didn’t call him on the lie, he let out a breath and was thankful he couldn’t see. They drove in silence when he felt the car turn left, he leaned his head back and turned to face Derek. “Can I ask you something?”

“'No' has never stopped you before,” Derek sighed. 

“How does the smell thing work?” He imagined Derek either glaring through the window, nostrils flaring, or glaring at _him_ , nostrils flaring. Or raising an eyebrow in annoyed confusion. All three made him grin and took his mind off the lack of sight, so he turned his body to face Derek. “And use words. I can’t see your obvious willingness to answer the blind guy.”

He heard Derek let out a breath and the thump of fingers against the wheel. “What. Smell. Thing?”

“Like smelling people out. Is that how scenting works? What is scent? And emotions? Can you smell out emotions on people?” Stiles turned his body more as he spoke, becoming more animated, he gestured with his hands and leaned his back against the window, then lifted legs to cross them in the seat. “Scott was able to find Lydia by scent when she left he hospital. So, what makes someone’s scent different from, say, a family member? Why didn’t Scott find Mrs. Martin? And, on the full moon he was able to smell,” he stopped remembering Scott’s first full moon before continuing, “things on people. So can you smell emotions? Does sad smell like flowers, Derek?” 

Stiles grinned and bit his lower lip, he could _feel_ the annoyance radiating from silence beside him. 

“You learn it.” Derek replied slowly, as though each word cost him, and Stiles heard the thumping stop. “People typically have a unique scent. Families are similar but it’s like--”

“Coke and Pepsi?” Stiles nodded with a smirk. He shifted the seatbelt out of the way and wished more than anything he could see Derek’s face right now.

“God, I hate you. No. It's more like Coke, Diet Coke, and Coke Zero. Same family, but different.”

“Huh. That makes sense. I guess. We’ll call my scent Coke Awesome. And sad flowers?”

“It’s not a scent,” Derek ground out and, yeah, Stiles _really_ wanted to see Derek’s face right now, “it’s a body response. You learn it. When someone is sad their heart beats slower, causing their body to cool slightly. When they’re excited or happy their heart beats faster--”

“And their bodies get warm!” Stiles finished with an excited flourish. “Dude, that’s amazing. And you’re obviously better than Scott because he was bit not born.” Stiles imagined Derek’s curt nod. “Is it killing you to talk this much?”

“Not as much as--”

“You can’t kill me,” Stiles interrupted. “It’s still your turn to save me.”

“I told you, I had it covered. And we aren't taking turns.”

“Yeah. You keep telling yourself that, Mr. I’m-the-Alpha-but-I-can’t-stop-a-German-Shepherd-at-the-carnival.” At Derek’s chuckle he grinned, feeling bold, and pushed himself closer. He leaned his legs against the arm rest and placed his hands in the space between them. “But. I do think my sense are heightened.”

The car slowed to a stop and he heard Derek breathe through his mouth, felt the air between them warm slightly; then the car moved forward, “Yeah?”

Taking a dramatically deep sniff, Stiles leaned closer then froze when his nose bumped Derek’s neck. He breathed out through his mouth and felt his warm breath hit Derek’s neck and brush back against his face, then he heard the now familiar stretch of leather from the wheel. 

“Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears and feel his skin flush with heat. “For instance,” he fell back and was _really_ grateful for the blindness, “you are feeling Grumpy. With a capital gee.”

He heard the release of the leather, “Not the word I would have used.”

“What would you use, Grumpsalot?” and grinned as he imagined Derek rolling his eyes. The car came to a sudden stop and Derek cut the engine.

“We’re here.” 

“That’s not a feeling, Derek.” Stiles chastised then he leaned back and unbuckled his belt, he let out a shaky breath while he waited for Derek to open his door. Was this flirting with a werewolf? “You know I’ve never actually seen your apartment.”

“Huh. And to think, you’re here now and you still can’t see it.” 

“But I can feel it, Grumpy. We need to work on your feelings.” They walked up one stairwell with only one misstep, then another. “For instance, I _feel_ annoyed that we have to walk up stairs after having just run for my life from hunters with a vendetta against werewolves and humans who are, apparently, worse that werewolves.” He said the last with the inflection that the hunter had used and shook his head. “What does that even mean? Worse than werewolves?”

Derek hummed in avoidance and gently nudged him inside the open door. Then he led Stiles through a hallway and into a room, onto an unexpectedly soft mattress. “Wait here.” 

“Please!” Stiles shouted and made himself comfortable.

“I can hear you anywhere in the apartment, Stiles. Werewolf hearing,” he heard Derek say from what had to be the bathroom, he heard water pouring and boxes being moved around. “You don’t need to shout.”

“Still!” he shouted again. “A ‘please’ would be nice!”

“Most humans,” Derek said as he returned and knelt between Stiles’s legs, “aren’t as frustrating as you.”

Stiles lifted his hands slowly then slid them from Derek’s wrists, up his arms, to rest on his shoulders while Derek slid his hands beneath Stiles’ shirt. “And most werewolves don’t cop a feel from people they’re saving.”

“How would you know?” Derek muttered. “You don’t hang out with _normal_ werewolves.”

“See? Grumpy. Don’t be so hard on yourself, you’ll be a normal boy one day.” He grinned when Derek snorted. 

“I’m the most normal werewolf you know. I need you to take your shirt off to make sure that there aren’t any other injuries.” Derek said as he ran his hand over Stiles’ side and Stiles leaned into the touch before straightening. 

“Yeah, right,” he nodded and licked his lips a few times. “A few bruises.” 

“How’s the sight?” Derek asked as he slid Stiles’s unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders then he slid the plain tee over Stiles's head and threw the shirt to the side. He stopped for a moment and Stiles shivered as the cold air wrapped around him. 

“Still gone.” Stiles swallowed and looked down where he could feel Derek’s hands now at his waist. He felt the flush rise along his neck and cheeks. “It’s temporary, though, rght? Like, you weren’t trying to make me feel better bef--”

Derek took one of Stiles’ hands and placed it against his chest, over his heart, “Yes.”

“What are you--”

“I can tell when you’re lying because your heart changes speeds. Like emotions. The human speeds up momentarily when it lies.” Beneath his hand Stiles could feel Derek’s steady heart beat. 

“Like excitement?” he asked. “But you’re a werwolf.”

“Like excitement,” he pressed Stiles’s hand harder against his chest, “The heart works the same for any warm blooded animal. It beats steady, but faster, for a werewolf. The blindness is temporary. Maybe a day.”

“It sped,” Stile blurt out and tried to pull his hand back. “Oh God.”

“No,” Derek tightened his hold. “Stiles. Listen to me. The blindness is temporary. It _will_ go way. But I don’t know when; a day, maybe two.”

Stiles licked his lips and bunched his hand into a fist, holding Derek in place. “Okay. Good. Right. What now?”

“Now, I’m going to check you for injuries. Your hands are cut, you have the cut at your temple, and you have bruises. Your shoulder and your ribs.” Stiles nodded and turned his head, then let out a breath. “Do you trust me, Stiles?”

He released his hold on Derek’s shirt but kept his palm flat. He nodded then stuttered out, “Of...yes.” He felt Derek rise slowly. “Do you...do you trust me?”

“Stiles.”

“Right,” he pulled his hand back and felt the coldness of the room sweep over him again. “You--”

“Yes.”

Stiles swallowed and gently put his hand back onto Derek. He looked to where Derek had spoken and desperately, _desperately_ , wished he could see Derek, “You...”

He felt Derek’s hand over his, warm and strong, and felt Derek’s heart beat steady under their combined hold. Derek pressed their hands tighter. “I trust you Stiles.”

“Good. Then.” He tensed under Derek’s hold and nodded. “That’s good.”

He felt Derek’s hand leave his and then Derek’s hands were on his body, gently touching the bruises and cuts. “Sometimes, though, you’re an idiot.”

Stiles let his head fall back, “Takes one to know one.” 

For a minute he relaxed, then moved his hand from Derek’s chest to his neck, and dropped his head back so he could look at here he thought Derek’s eyes were. He felt the heat from the wolf and felt the steady, if fast, beat at Derek’s neck. “Thank you. For helping me. When this is over--”

“You’ll go back to Scott’s pack.”

“I’ll go back and help Scott. He has no idea what he’s doing.” He leaned forward when Derek tightened his grip at Stiles’s shoulders.

“None of us do. Not with the Alpha Pack in town.”

“Or the Argents wherever they are.” Stiles breathed, then tilted his head. “Or other hunters. Clearly.”

Derek pulled Stiles’s hands close and washed them, cleaned the dirt from the wounds. Then raised the damp cloth to Stiles temple and dapped at the wound. “It wasn’t always like this.”

“I know.” Stiles nodded and closed his eyes, then swallowed. “Is this what a pack feels like?”

“Like what?” Derek asked, his voice thick. "Being chased because--"

“Safe.” He jerked when Derek moved his hand from his temple and slid the iodine over one of the larger cuts on the back of his left hand. He took a breath and slowly unfolded his hands into Derek’s hold. “This is the first time I’ve felt safe in a long time.”

“You're cut to hell, Stiles."

"I know. But I can sleep tonight. Right?"

Yes.” Derek released his hands and walked away. “A pack means safety, it means strength. For the alpha and for the betas. It means you don’t have to run, it means there is always someone there to watch over you. And, when it’s peaceful, it means family.”

Stiles pushed back on the bed, careful to not open any of the cuts. “Like you, Peter, and Isaac?” He could hear noise coming from the bathroom, the distinct sound of things being moved around loudly and general stalling. Then silence until the bed dipped beside him and he allowed Derek to drag the comforter over them both.

“They’ve never been here.” Derek answered quietly then Stiles heard the click of the light and closed his eyes. 

“Thank you, Derek.” 

“You’re welcome, Stiles.”

“And, Derek?” He continued when Derek hmmed, neither moved but Stiles could feel the heat from Derek's back push against his. “I’m not in a pack. I’m just the Yoda to Scott's colossally lost Luke.”

“Good night, Stiles.” 

“Good night, Derek.” Stiles sighed and ran his face over the pillow and breathed in the sense of safety.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a PWP -- instead it's fluffy emotions. And no porn. I'm planning on making this into a series that slowly builds to a more substantial relationship, and more physical.
> 
> Any mistakes are mine; any criticism or comments are very much welcome. :) And I'm a lonely lurker on Tumblr (LittleLostCat) trying to figure out how to work the flippin' site! So -- any suggestions on _that_ would be very much welcome as well.


End file.
